


The Lonely Giant

by LittyBrit



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-10-14 06:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17503115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittyBrit/pseuds/LittyBrit
Summary: No one has entered Gecko Moria's garden for a decade. A great wall blocks the way, and terrifying  shadows are poised to attack any intruder. One day, a child named Perona notices a gap in the wall. She crawls through, beckoned by the secrets on the other side.





	1. Prologue

A long time ago in the village of Gigascombe there lived a giant whom no-one had seen for ten years. His house was perched on a foothill overlooking the village, surrounded by fields and woodland. A towering wall of stone blocked the house from view so that only the highest windows and the roof could be seen. It was from these windows that the villagers sometimes glimpsed a hulking black shadow; the only evidence Gecko Moria lived at all.

Withered tree branches clutched the wall. The vast garden from whence they sprung was buried in shadow and ravaged by many harsh winters. Stories of its former state brought sad smiles to the faces of the villagers who remembered it.

The giant's garden had been their playground; a hazy, lantern-strewn wonderland of secrets, tricks and hidey-holes. It was best appreciated in the evening, when everything was still and the giant’s shining white flowers were in bloom.

Moria was seldom home. He had, since his youth, answered the call to adventure - often departing on long journeys with a group of friends. In the meantime, he allowed the village children free reign of his garden, under the supervision of his servants. When the giant returned and saw them at play, he seemed pleased. 

The last time Moria returned home was the last the children would ever see of the garden. Hearing the familiar thuds of the giant's footfalls, the children turned to see a monster with mad, bulging eyes, half smothered in bloodied gauze. Drawing a haggard breath, the giant barked: " _Leave._ "

Some children ran immediately, while others quivered under his hateful gaze. Moria lunged and they fled screaming. As they ran they could hear the giant shouting: “Out! Out, you brats! Never come back!”.

By the next morning, the giant’s servants had left their master’s house. Some had fled the previous night, terrified by Moria’s rage. Those that stayed were dismissed.

Shaken villagers approached the giant’s house to demand an explanation. They saw black imp-like figures with hollow eyes busy at work, steadily constructing a wall of stone around the giant’s garden. When some of the braver villagers tried to pass through, they attacked.

From then on, the people of Gigascombe avoided the house altogether. They even made a new road out of the village to give it as wide a berth as possible. The giant’s nearest neighbours were so terrified of becoming a target for his minions that they abandoned their home and lived with friends until a new house was built for them further away.

Fellow giants came to visit Moria, but the few who managed to bypass his traps and minions were rejected by their maker. The villagers trembled as thunderous crashes shook the earth, howls echoing across the valley. After hours of fighting, Moria’s foes were beaten. The giants left and never returned.

The neglected garden became home to Moria’s shadow minions. They crawled about in the foliage and along the top of the wall, looking for intruders. Moria had accrued many treasures over years of travelling, and with wealth there came thieves willing to steal it. Those who attempted to do so were dragged screaming into the giant’s lair.

The first night the villagers were sure Moria had killed the thieves, but early the next morning they were awoken by loud shouts. Peering out of their homes, they saw four men running through their village. Their clothes hung off them like rags and they bled from many wounds. 

Dawn was beginning to break. A village elder opened his bedroom window and peered out at the men.

He looked at the ground beneath their feet and paled.

“ _Stop!”_ he screamed. “ _The sun – get out of the sun!”_

It was too late. As the morning light hit their bodies, the men turned to dust and were swept away on the wind.

The next day the shadows of the dead thieves could be seen walking atop the giant’s wall, keeping watch for their master.

This grim event did not stop further attempts by bandits, pirates and even giants in the years to come, but the result was always the same. 

The village children grew up in the shadow of the selfish giant’s wall. Scarcely a day went by when they did not catch a glimpse of the towering barrier that had ended their carefree lives. Shadowy ghouls, doomed thieves and blood-chilling screams cursed their nights.

As the years went by, the villagers began to recognise one particular scream. It rent the air on many a night, and set itself apart from the cries of unlucky ne'er-do-wells. Some said it was the ghost of a notorious pirate whose shadow Moria had stolen. Some said it was Moria himself, tormented by the ghosts of those he had killed.

No-one knew. No-one dared to find out.


	2. Through the Gap

Walking back from Mr Fawcett’s wheat field, Perona watched her breath drift into the freezing air and vanish before her eyes. The snow-laden fields around her sparkled in the sun, and the sloping hills to the east, freed from the early morning mist, gloried in their untouched beauty.

 At the base of the hills sat the giant’s house, hiding within its stone prison. Perona could see the bark of dead trees clawing over its sides and the moss and weeds marring its stone face. The thought that this wall had been constructed by hundreds of small, shadowy hands sent shivers down her back.

What truly drew her eye, however, was the house half-concealed behind it. It seemed Moria had been primarily concerned with keeping out humans and small-to-average sized giants. The top half of the house peered out at the world; a solitary tower of grey seastone. Ornate, web-like flying buttresses connected it to smaller towers. Patches of royal purple tiles could be seen through the snow that smothered its steepled roof. Many were broken, and some had fallen from their places to the hidden ground below.

A tall arched window, larger than all the others, lay in the centre of the great tower, overlooking a balcony fit to hold a giant’s weight. Today was the first time that Perona had seen the curtains drawn back. Perona imagined the maddened eyes of the giant watching her from behind the glass and shivered, clutching her patchwork bear, Bearsy, close to her chest.

Looking across the fields at the towering wall that surrounded the house, Perona’s spirits sank.

Did the Yugaoshima moonflowers bloom in Moria’s garden still?

It was at that moment that she saw the gap.

Perona stopped in her tracks. No. It couldn’t be.

She ran. She had to see. She had to be sure.

Perona stood still, breathless, staring at the giant’s wall. There was no mistaking it now. At the very bottom of the wall there was a rectangular shaped block of white where stone should be.

There _was_ a gap.

“Perona!”

She jumped and turned. Farmers from the nearby fields were shouting and waving their arms.

“Get away from there!” they cried.  “He’ll see you!”

Perona rushed to obey, retracing her steps through the snow, leaving the ‘Giant’s Path’ for the path the villagers had made to avoid it.

One farmer, Mr Hawkins, strode towards her, his eyes wide with anger.

“What were you _doing_?” he barked. “Do you want your shadow stolen?”

Perona stayed quiet, staring at her shoes.

Mr Hawkins sighed.

“You’ve been here long enough to know better, Perona,” he said. “Never go near that house!”

Perona nodded.

The farmer patted her shoulder.

“We’re only looking out for you. Go home now.”

Perona nodded and started walking towards the village, her feet crunching along the path. Although Mr Hawkins’s words had stung, her mind was filled with thoughts of the giant’s house.

 _The tower’s got to be three hundred years old!_ she thought. _That style of buttress didn’t exist before then. And sea stone hasn’t been used to build houses since the Pugin Era! But what about the rest of it? And the inside? Inside..._

Her heart pounded. From what she’d heard from the village elders, the house had been built by an ancestor of Moria, Gecko Hine. After a hundred years co-existing with the villagers, the giant moved away and died shortly afterwards. The house changed owners many times before falling into ruin, remaining this way until thirty years ago when Moria returned and settled in.

Nobody had ever seen the inside of the house. Was it all as great, grand, old and wonderful as the outside? Did the secrets she sought dwell inside it? 

All of a sudden, her life's dream was in her sight, gleaming a heavenly white.

The humble cottages of Gigascombe were built from limestone. The soft golden colour of the stones seemed to keep in the warmth of their surroundings, even in the bitterest winter. In the centre of the village was the small market square, complete with market cross and water pump. On bustling market days the villagers could almost forget Moria and his shadows.

The village was not quite deserted - some children were playing in the square. They called out to her, but Perona didn’t hear. Her mind’s eye was fixed on the gap in the giant's wall.

The cold impact of a snowball hitting her face jolted Perona from her thoughts and she yelped. The children laughed as she brushed the snow from her face and stomped towards them.

“What was that for?” she yelled.

“We were calling you!” said Joseph, a tall boy with sandy hair so frazzled people joked he must have eaten the Rumble Rumble Fruit.

“Yeah,” said Daisy, a girl with blonde plaits and a freckled, pouting face. “Didn’t you hear us?”

“Sorry,” Perona said. “I was thinking.”

“What about?” jeered Jeremy, the eldest at thirteen. “Who to curse next?”

“I’m not a witch!” Perona snapped, reddening.

Jeremy smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve got to be, look at your hair,” he said, point at her orchid-pink pigtails.

“Shut up!” Perona yelled, grasping them protectively. “I was thinking about the White Castle!”

“The one on that island?” Jeremy said. “You’re still into that weird stuff?”

Perona could feel her cheeks reddening.

“Yes I am!”

“You want the treasure?” asked Martin, a little boy of six.

“No!”

Jeremy scoffed.

“Stupid, _Kaido_ lives there! But maybe a witch can kill him?”

When Jeremy laughed, Perona whacked him in the face with Bearsy and ran. Leaving the square behind, she turned a corner and jumped up one step to knock on the door of Mrs Pendragon’s house, breathing hard and blinking back tears.

The door opened, and Mrs Pendragon looked out. She was a thin woman in a demure grey dress. When she saw Perona she smiled, and her cheeks turned the same pink as Perona’s hair.

“There you are, dear!” she said. “Did you work hard?”

Perona smiled.

“Yes, Mama.”

Looking closer at her face, Mrs Pendragon's smile faded.

"Are you alright?"

Perona nodded.

"I'm just cold."

"Bless you, come in!"

Ushering her inside, Mrs Pendragon shut the door.

“ _Brrr_ \- my word!” she said, shivering. “Shoes off, darling. Go change your clothes so I can wash them.”

* * *

That evening, Perona rushed upstairs to her room and grabbed a book from her bookshelf. Titled _The Island of Legend_ , it contained all the information that had been gathered about Yugaoshima, an island to the east so remote and dangerous to get to only a handful of people had ever reached it. Of these, only one had made it home alive.

That one had been Gecko Hine. The giant had never revealed the secret to his successful trip, but he had been more than happy to tell stories of the wonders he had seen. 

Flipping open the book, Perona pored over painstaking illustrations of Yugaoshima’s White Castle, the largest of its kind ever recorded, and the oldest. It was a hilltop complex of eighty buildings; storehouses, gates, keeps and towers. The main keep stood in the centre, the tallest of them all. The golden tiled roofs curved at the corners, and bore the dragon crest of the royal family. The castle's great stone walls were painted the purest white, and it shone in the sun's light like something divine. It had seen war, conquest, disasters and triumphs; a thousand years of life and loss.

Perona beamed, unable to contain her giggles.

What hauntings occurred in that ancient palace? What secrets lived in its walls? How could she reach a place so many had failed to glimpse? Had the old giant kept a diary? Had the story of his journey been passed down the family line? Were there relics that would give clues to hopeful travellers?

The answers lay in Moria’s house. 

That night, Perona crept out of bed. Donning a wool dress, boots, and gloves, she wrapped herself up in a thick rouge cloak and she sneaked downstairs. She found a lamp, which she lit before making her way to the door. A blast of freezing winter air hit her face as she opened it.

Gripping the handle of her lamp tightly, Perona stepped into the bitter night and began to walk.

* * *

Not even layers of clothing could protect her from the cold’s sting. Trudging through thigh-high snow, Perona hid her lamp with her cloak and kept her hood up until she was safely out of the village. Following the forbidden path north, she made her way towards the giant’s house. The stone of its tower and fortress was made silver under the moon’s glow.

Before her was a valley of white sparkling under the full moon. The sky was empty of cloud, the purest black, and studded with stars. A profound silence reigned over the land, and Perona was acutely aware of the thudding of her heart, the sight of her breath, and the soft crunching of her footsteps.

Silent and watchful, Perona approached the great wall. It loomed so high it hid the moon from her sight. She could see no sentries – not at its very top or bottom.

Locating the gap, her heart began to pound. Dwarfed by the space a block of seastone once filled, Perona was flooded with dread. If she turned back now, she would be safe. She could go home and forget about Moria, his house, his garden, and his ancestor. She would have to forget about Yugaoshima and its castle, too.

Biting her lip, she stepped forward. Hoisting her lamp up into the gap first, Perona heaved herself up. Feeling the rough stone beneath her hands, she began to crawl.

Within moments, she was through, dropping down on the other side. Taking a deep breath, Perona looked around.

Snow blanketed almost every inch of the vast landscape, but even it could not conceal the chaos that ruled here. A decade of neglect had turned the garden into a forest. Withered, dead trees sprung up all around her. The branches seemed to claw at once another in their bid to reach the sun, and many had fallen foul of bad weather, split in two, and died. 

A faint, purplish mist hung low to the ground, creeping along with the wind. The cold seemed to bite more viciously than before.

There were no signs of Moria’s shadows. Holding up her lamp, Perona stepped into the forest, peering through the gloom. Grass, weeds and shrubs grew out of control and scratched at her legs as she walked.

 _The moonflowers won't be blooming now,_ she thought. _They hate the cold._

Her wandering eye caught sight of a purple-coloured tree just ahead, and she ran to get a better look. 

It was the Gum Gum Tree. Out of all the Devil Fruit trees, its was regarded as the most bizarre. The tree was so elastic that it would bend and twist any which way the elements took it and still snap right back into shape. Nothing could crush it. Stories told of the tree being struck by lightning and left entirely unaffected. Eating the fruit from the tree gave you the temporary ability to bounce great heights.

This one’s branches were bare on account of the weather, but Perona’s heart bounced just seeing it. The thinner branches sagged under the weight of the snow on them. Unable to resist, Perona grabbed one of its exposed roots and pulled, stifling a squeal as it stretched as far as she could take it before snapping back.

Breathless, Perona continued on. She spotted the Rumble Rumble Tree, its blue trunk in the shape of a lightning bolt. Eating its fruit made your hair fizz for a short time. It, too, was immune to lightning strikes. In fact, its bark glowed when struck. Perona could see no fruit hanging from it.

The Fire Fire Tree she found further on was suffering especially badly in the cold; its crimson bark had turned a dull brown and its branches were brittle and broken. It looked dead.

Perona's heart sank. Not only was it a sad sight, but knowing its fruits' ability to grant the eater a toasty warm sensation - and apparently, in some cases, fire breath - her body felt all the colder.

Then, through the silence, a man’s voice shouted: “Now!”

Perona's heart leapt into her throat and she ran. The gap was her only chance. All around her the shadows of the trees were flashing across the snow, converging on her.

Suddenly small, implike creatures burst out from the blackness and swarmed her tiny body. Perona's scream was muffled under the heap and she felt hands clawing at her clothes and face. Her lamp fell from her hand and smashed on the ground, tramped by hundreds of feet. 

"Idiots, it's just one human!" the voice shouted. "Bind her!"

Perona felt the shadows shift and slide away, leaving two to secure her hands and feet. The rest lingered close, watching. Perona twisted and jerked, but their grip was unyielding.

Out of the group came taller, human-shaped shadows. Their leader stepped forward, peering at her. His eyes were like bottomless pits. His mouth, only visible when he spoke, was equally empty.

"A child," he muttered. "The master won't be pleased."

"Let me go!" Perona shouted. "I haven't taken anything! I just want to see-!"

The shadow grinned.

"Sorry, kid, no can do," he said. "The master wants to see you."

He stood up and ordered the others to head for the house.

Deaf to her pleading, the shadows carried her through the forest like a captured deer. Perona's heart hammered against her chest and she sobbed. She cried for Mrs Pendragon, Mr Hawkins, the village elders.

Had her dreams been doomed from the start?

Suddenly, they stopped. A pair of giant wooden doors opened before them, moaning heavily.

The ghoulish procession walked inside. Perona watched as the last remaining light was snuffed out with a thunderous slam.

She trembled. The house no villager had ever seen - she was inside it.


	3. Lord of Shadows

The walls were lined with flaming torches, and the vaulted ceiling rose so high above Perona’s tiny head she thought she must be in a cathedral built for a titan. They passed cavernous corridors and vast doors. Humanoid shadows standing guard took interest in the procession and jeered at Perona.  
  
“What use is her shadow going to be for our master?” asked one.  
  
“Scrubbin’ his shoes, maybe!” said another nearby.  
  
Their laughter echoed.  
  
Cold clutched Perona in its icy fist and she shivered. A dry, dusty smell pinched her nose, and her neck ached from the effort of holding it upright as she was carried through the house.  
  
Silence lingered like the garden's creeping fog. Perona jerked as the group's leader gave the order for the excess to leave. All except himself and the ones carrying Perona stayed - the rest slipped away, back to the garden.

They stopped by a spiral staircase. Its steps coiled upward seemingly for eternity. Perona felt sick and shut her eyes,  
  
As they ascended the stairs, Perona frantically wracked her brain for an escape plan.  
  
Giants were known for being slow-witted and easily duped, but Moria’s actions over the last decade were more than enough evidence to the contrary. He had heard the pleadings and excuses of hundreds of intruders like her – what words would sway him now?  
  
Giants were notoriously fat and slow, and perhaps Moria resembled his kin in this regard. But when Perona looked into the hollow eyes of her captors, dread smothered her hopes. Even if she could outrun the giant, she couldn’t outrun his servants.  
  
Perona’s hands squirmed in her captors’ grip and she felt her chest tighten.  
  
_There has to be something. There has to be something -_  
  
They stopped again, and Perona’s attention was drawn to the mighty oaken door towering above her head. The door knocker - a bat’s face with a ring clamped in its jaws - glared down at her.  
  
The shadow Perona had faced in the garden let himself in, slipping under the door. She heard him say: “Master, we have brought the intruder.”  
  
Terror gripped her as she heard the giant’s gleeful reply.  
  
“Good! Bring it in!”  
  
The door opened and Perona’s captors filed in with Perona in tow.  
  
The room was warm. The sound of crackling drew her eye to a vast marble fireplace on the far left wall, a weak fire spitting in the hearth. A clock hung nearby, ticking softly.  
  
Craning her head to look up, she saw a patch of night sky behind the glass of a tall, arched window. Perona stifled a gasp. 

_This is the room with the balcony!_

Her captor’s footsteps made no sound upon the tiles. Perona barely had time to process the metallic creaking sound before she was flung onto a hard iron floor. A sharp clink made her jump, and she sat up just in time to see the shadow of a man locking her in.  
  
“Well!” a high, somewhat nasally voice cried. “I’d thought you lot had given up!”  
  
Perona looked through the bars of her cage and beheld the giant.  
  
Moria’s body, as tall as the tallest Devil Fruit tree, reclined in a white armchair, the seat of which was so low his comparatively short legs rested across the fur rug that lay under it. An enormous purple robe largely concealed his deathly pale skin, enveloping his bulging, rotund lower body. His face was more demon than giant; hook-like horns curved forwards to a deadly point, as did his large, batlike ears, and the teeth in his massive grinning mouth were like razors. Fine stitches criss-crossed down from his forehead to the nape of his fat, elongated neck.  
  
The giant’s small, glinting grey eyes pierced her, and the darkness he cast was an abyss in which Perona’s tiny shadow quaked.  
  
Moria laughed, a high-pitched cackle: _Kishishishi!_  
  
Perona licked her dry lips and tried to speak.  
  
“P-please, sir…”  
  
“What a stupid little thief you are!” the giant remarked. “My shadows tell me you came alone! Even the youngest brats brought a partner!”  
  
“I didn’t come to steal anything!” Perona cried.  
  
“Oh?” said the giant, his eyes gleaming. “You crawled through my wall! You laid hands on my things! Did I _invite_ you? Did I give you _permission_? Was there a sign hanging anywhere on that fortress telling you to come in?”  
  
Perona trembled.  
  
“Please, sir,” she whispered, “I—”  
  
“Enough!” said Moria, scratching his tousled mop of crimson hair. “You’ve kept me awake too long already!”  
  
The giant snapped his fingers. Perona watched as ten shadows hurried to their master’s side, heaving something above their heads. She screamed. 

A pair of scissors half the giant’s length flashed in the pale moonlight. Moria’s fingers gripped the handles.  
  
Perona began to sob.  
  
“No, no! Please, no!”  
  
Moria cackled.  
  
“This will teach you to trespass in a giant’s domain!” he said. “But don’t worry – my kind live up to three hundred years! Your shadow will have a long life as my servant! _Kishishishi!_ ”  
  
The shadows laughed and cheered. One separated from the rest and unlocked Perona’s cage, dragging her across the floor and pinning her down at the giant’s bare feet.  
  
Moria bent over and reached towards the floor.  
  
“No!” Perona screamed. “If you take my shadow, I won’t be able to see the White Castle!”

A deafening clang rang out as the scissors crashed to the floor.  
  
Breathless and shaking, Perona looked up at the giant’s face.  
  
His grin had vanished, falling into a sunken gape of disbelief. The horror in his eyes was deeper and darker than the abyss of his own shadow.  
  
“The White Castle?” he whispered. “Are you mad?”  
  
When Perona said nothing, Moria snatched the scissors from the floor and stood, his eyes glowing red. 

“Fool!” shouted Moria. “ _Kaido_ is lord of that castle! He would kill you before you even laid eyes on it!”  
  
“I don’t care!” Perona wailed. “I want to go!”  
  
The giant seized hold of her shadow by the head, ripping it from the floor as if it were flypaper. Perona screamed as she was yanked off her feet along with it, dangling helplessly.  
  
“If you want to die so badly, I’ll take your shadow now!” he screamed. A mad grin spread across his face. “See? Aren’t I kind? I’m sparing you a horrible, painful death!”  
  
Ignoring her screams, Moria opened the scissor blades either side of her struggling shadow’s feet, where Perona and it connected. He squeezed.  
  
“ _Yugaoshima will be the last one!_ ”  
  
The scissors stilled. The giant looked at her, dumbstruck. Perona’s tear-stained face reflected in his eyes.  
  
“I’ll be an old lady,” she choked. “I’ll have visited every old, haunted castle in the world – except that one - the best one of all! And I’ll go to that island, I’ll see that castle! So what if Kaido kills me? I’ll be happy!” Anger swelled inside her and she spat into the monster’s face. “It’s my _dream_ , you fat old giant!”  
  
Moria’s hand trembled. Slowly, he drew back his arm. Lowering Perona and her shadow to the floor, the giant collapsed into his chair with a heavy thud. His enormous belly heaved, and sweat glistened on his face.  
  
The giant’s servants crowded around him.  
  
“Master, are you alright?” they cried. “Master, shall we kill this girl?”  
  
“Quiet, fools,” Moria rasped. He wiped a hand across his brow.  
  
The shadows drew back.  
  
Perona gasped for breaths she had almost been robbed of, shaking uncontrollably.   
  
“You want to see that damned castle?” the giant murmured. He brushed the air with a weary hand. “Go. I’ll outlive you, at any rate.”  
  
When Perona said nothing, Moria raised his head a little and frowned down at her.  
  
“Are you deaf? I told you to get out!”  
  
“I can’t,” Perona whispered. “You’re the only one who knows how to get to Yugaoshima safely.”  
  
Moria sat up slowly.  
  
“Your ancestor, Gecko Hine,” Perona went on, her voice trembling. “He’s the only one who returned from there alive! You’ve got to know how he did it. There has to be something here that can tell me how!” She clasped her shaking hands together, clutching at her only hope. “Please - help me!”  
  
The giant closed his eyes and let out a long, heavy sigh. Suddenly he seemed so old and tired. Where had the monster gone?  
  
“How dare you ask the master such a thing!” his shadows shouted.  
  
“Insolence!”  
  
“Lord Hine’s secret is—!”  
  
“SHUT UP!”  
  
The shadows cowered and begged forgiveness. Moria was sitting up, baring all his teeth in a vicious glare.   
  
“ _Out_ ,” he hissed.  
  
The shadows obeyed, melting into pools of black and sweeping out of the room.  
  
Perona and Moria sat in silence for several moments. Finally, the giant spoke.

“My great-great grandfather _did_ reach that island,” he sighed.  
  
Perona’s skin crawled with anxiety as the giant slowly lowered his eyes to look at her.  
  
“He kept a journal,” Moria went on, “and brought back souvenirs. Passed them down the family line.” The giant’s stare was unwavering. “If you betray any information, I’ll know.”  
  
Perona was silent. Her heart pounded. Was this it?  
  
“Where do you come from?” Moria asked.  
  
“G-Gigascombe, sir,” Perona said, surprised.   
  
The giant’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again. He sat so still in his chair it was as if Hancock, the wicked Snake Queen, had turned him to stone. Perona stared, at a loss of what to do.  
  
Suddenly Moria heaved a dramatic sigh, his eyes rolling to look at the clock.  
  
“What an ungodly hour you’ve kept me up to!” he said. “There’s no time tonight.”  
  
“What?” Perona cried. “No fair!”  
  
Moria frowned.  
  
“Idiot,” he said, pointing at the clock. “In less and two hours it’ll be morning. Your parents will wake up soon – and when they do, they'll notice their precious pink-haired brat is missing. Then they’ll follow your tracks here. You don’t want, do you? _I_ certainly don’t!”  
  
Perona bit her lip, fuming. She knew the giant was right. Too much time had been wasted.  
  
“However,” Moria began, “I can teach you a spell that will make sure you’re not missed _tomorrow_ night.”  
  
Perona’s eyes grew wide and she began to smile.  
  
“It’s one of the first spells I learned,” the giant went on. “It’s so easy even a child could do it. But it takes concentration to keep active when you’re a novice.”  
  
“What is it?” asked Perona eagerly.  
  
Moria grinned, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes glittering with mischief.  
  
“Double creation!” he declared. “With this spell you can create a being similar to my servants – your shadow will take physical form. As long as it stays under the covers, anyone peering into your room will think it’s _you_ sound asleep in bed.” The giant shrugged. “Well, it's not foolproof, but it’s the best we’ve got.”  
  
Perona was on her feet, hopping on the spot.  
  
“Teach me!”  
  
The giant laughed.  
  
“Come here!”  
  
Perona scampered as close as she dared. The giant’s massive form blotted out the moonlight filtering into the room, and a twinge of fear shot down her back. She had not forgotten the sight of Moria’s maddened eyes, nor the gleam of his scissor blades.  
  
“Now,” said Moria, “close your eyes.”  
  
She hesitated a moment, but obeyed. She twitched when she heard the giant’s voice. It seemed closer somehow, a whisper in the dark.  
  
“Your shadow is your closest ally. You can control it, and bend it to your will. Imagine it taking shape, separate from your own body, a living silhouette - a doppelgänger. Cut it loose, let it free…”  
  
“Wait,” Perona said. “If I cut off my own shadow, won’t I die?”  
  
“No,” Moria replied, miffed. “This spell is not the same as having it taken away. Think of it as a temporary parting. It’s your own shadow, anyway. You can do as you like with it!”  
  
Perona relaxed a bit.  
  
“Alright.”  
  
“Now, are you concentrating?”  
  
Perona remembered how her shadow had writhed in Moria’s grasp, like a living, breathing creature just as she was.  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Good. Now, repeat after me:  
  
_‘Shadows have not a thing to say,_  
_No steps to walk but mine,_  
_But under the light I stand today,_  
_My freedom will be thine._  
  
_Shadow, I command thee!’"_  
  
As Perona repeated the words, she imagined her shadow breaking away from under her feet, walking free, walking toward the village through the wind and the snow.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Perona opened her eyes and saw Moria aghast and staring past her shoulder. She turned, and saw her shadow; a perfect, ink-black copy of herself, walking towards the door.  
  
“Stop!” Perona cried.  
  
Her shadow halted.  
  
A loud clap made her jump and the shadow dissolved, gliding across the floor and fixing itself to her feet. Perona turned to see the giant with his hands pressed together.  
  
“Why’d you do that?” she snapped.  
  
“You want your shadow to keep still, not go on errands!” replied the giant snidely. “Try again. Imagine your shadow sound asleep in bed and recite the spell. Close your eyes now!”  
  
Perona obeyed. In her mind’s eye she saw her shadow, tucked up warmly in her bed at home. She had left it long behind, long behind…  
  
“That’s it!” Moria cried.  
  
Perona opened her eyes and turned to look. Her shadow was curled up on the floor by her feet, completely detached. Its chest rose and fell as if it were breathing.  
  
Perona’s heart soared. She could do magic!  
  
“Now go home,” Moria instructed. “Keep your shadow here, and only call it back to you once you return to bed.”  
  
Perona gave the giant a quizzical look.  
  
“Are you sure I’m ready?”  
  
“As long as you keep your focus, you’ll be fine,” said the giant breezily.  
  
“And if I fail?”  
  
Moria sneered.  
  
“Then don’t come back! _Kishishi!_ ”  
  
Perona clenched her fists and looked the cunning giant straight in the eyes.  
  
“I’ll be back tomorrow!”  
  
Moria laughed, slapping a hand on his armrest as if to say  _'How quaint! How cute!'_  
  
“Fine, it’s a deal!” he said. “Come at midnight. My shadows will let you in.”  
  
The giant snapped his fingers and three shadows of men appeared by his feet.  
  
“Show our mad guest out,” he said.  
  
“My name’s Perona,” said Perona.  
  
Moria picked at an ear, glancing lazily at the clock.  
  
“Is it?”  
  
Perona was ushered out of the giant’s chamber before she could reply. The shadows hurried her through the dusty grey corridors, muttering for her to go faster.

* * *

Walking free under the setting moon felt like a dream. Her body seemed to be drifting through the heavy snow, leaving the giant’s house, his garden, his Devil Fruit trees and his secrets, far behind. With each step, she gripped the image of her sleeping shadow as hard as she could in her mind’s eye; its softly breathing form, curled up on the floor of Moria’s chamber.  
  
_My shadow, sleep. Sleep, my shadow._  
  
Nothing could distract her from it. Not yet. Not yet.

* * *

Stepping through the open door, Perona entered a silent house. Letting out a slow exhale, Perona closed the door behind her and tip-toed in. As she moved, she repeated the mantra that kept her spell alive.  
  
_My shadow, sleep. Sleep, my shadow._  
  
She crept up the stairs, inching past her mother’s room.  
  
_My shadow, sleep. Sleep, my shadow._  
  
She stood before the door of her own bedroom, scarcely daring to breathe.  
  
A lump caught in her throat.  
  
_My shadow, sleep. Sleep, my shadow._  
  
Perona didn’t let go until she was inside. Bearsy lay on her bed, his large, bulging eyes gazing at her expectantly. Overwhelmed, Perona threw herself on the bed and squeezed him tight. Burying her face into his cotton body, she inhaled his faint, musky scent. She blinked away tears.

This was real. She was home.

Slowly, Perona allowed her body to relax.

 _I did it, you fat old giant,_ she thought.  
  
By the time her shadow had returned to her, Perona was fast asleep.


	4. The Liars

Perona lay in a daze, the previous night's events lingering in her brain like Moria's fog. Faint morning sunlight draped over her and she wondered whether it had all been a dream. As the minutes ticked by, the frenzied horror of that night seemed like another world. And yet, the heavy sensation of blood filling her head as she was strung up by her own shadow kept asserting itself.

It was too vivid, too keenly felt. _I_ did _meet Moria_ , Perona thought. A sudden cold came over her. Moria was expecting her - at midnight.

Perona shivered, remembering the giant’s mocking sneer.

_“Fine, it’s a deal!”_

She didn’t know what happened to people who made deals with giants. Giants were not known for their interest in such things. Most were content with simply eating their victims.

Moria was different. The only thing he was remotely interested in was shadows. Yet he had failed in stealing Perona’s.

 _He didn’t care that I was a kid,_  she thought, gripping one of Bearsy’s paws. _He cared about the White Castle. He cared about Kaido._

Perona herself knew very little about Kaido. People seemed to believe he was alive, and ruling the island of Yugaoshima of all places, yet no-one had seen him for years. How could they know? Was this just another myth people believed about the island?

She remembered the giant’s wild eyes, his screams.

Was he mad? Or was he speaking from experience?

This thought chilled Perona to her core. She threw herself out of bed, rushing out of her bedroom just as her mother was walking in. The bump caused Perona to stumble back, stunned.

“My!” cried Mrs Pendragon. “You’re in a hurry this morning!”

Perona smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Her mother smiled. Her hair was tied back in a neat bun, and an apron was tied around her front, which only meant one thing.

“Well, since you’re up, you can help me with the cleaning!” she said brightly.

Perona sighed. At least she could distract herself from Moria for a little while. The idea that his ravings were more than just delusions, that there could be more to him than what she so desperately sought, frightened and excited her in equal measure. She didn't know what to do.

“Are you alright dear?”

Perona jumped. “Oh – I’m fine,” she stammered.

Her mother laughed.

“Still half-asleep!” she said. “A bit of work ought to wake you up. Come on!”

* * *

Pausing, feather duster in hand, Mrs Pendragon turned to see her daughter staring out of the kitchen window, somewhere far away. Peering over her shoulder, Mrs Pendragon could see Moria’s walled abode in the distance.

“Perona!”

Perona jumped. The broom she was holding dropped to the floor with a clatter.

“S-sorry,” she said. “I was just…thinking.” It was a pitiful lie, and they both knew it.

“You’ve been thinking a lot this morning!” her mother remarked.

Perona picked up the broom and clasped it awkwardly, saying nothing. Mrs Pendragon sighed, turning her attention to the knick-knacks that lined the windowsill: the potted plants and wooden figures of cats and birds. She set the feather duster down, and looked out.

“Yesterday,” she began, “someone upset you, didn’t they?”

Perona relaxed a little. It was only _that_. "Yes."

Her mother turned and fixed her with her steady gaze. “Who was it?”

 _What will she do if I tell her?_ Perona wondered. Her mother had spoken to the parents of her bullies before, but now what?

“I want to know,” Mrs Pendragon said.

Perona bit her lip. “Jeremy,” she said. “It was Jeremy.”

Her mother let this information sink in, raising her chin a little as she considered.

“I see,” she said. “And what did he say to you?”

“He called me a witch,” Perona mumbled. Her stomach was squirming.

Mrs Pendragon pursed her lips and shook her head. She had heard it before.

Stepping forward, she took Perona in her arms and held her close.

“Please,” she whispered. “If someone is hurting you I want to know so I can _help_." She stepped back, and Perona saw tears in her eyes.

“I don’t want you to become like that miserable creature in there,” she said, her voice quivering.

Perona had never seen her mother like this. “What do you mean?”

“He lets no-one in,” she said. “Whatever he suffers, he suffers alone. We would have helped him, like we always did in the past! Yet…”

Wiping her eyes, Mrs Pendragon turned away and picked up her feather duster.

“Go out and play. I’ll be finished here soon.”

Perona obeyed, leaving her mother to her thoughts.

* * *

It was another cold, bright winter’s day in the valley, and all the village children were playing in the square. Their mothers sat nearby watching them, chatting over hot drinks. Mrs Hatter, the village schoolteacher – and mother to three of the village children – couldn’t help but hover about and worry over them.

A couple of elderly men huddled on the opposite side of the square, wrapped up in impossibly thick layers of clothing, enjoying a lively conversation.

The taller of the two was Crocus, the village doctor, a stern old man with an unkempt, shaggy white beard. Strangely, while the top of his head was as bald as the day he entered the world, a mass of white hair stubbornly clung on to the back. The other was Toto, a kindly elder with a bushy white moustache and a fondness for large hats.

Normally, Perona would have joined her playmates in the snow, but today her head was buzzing with questions. There were so many things she didn’t know, so many mysteries. She had to know, she had to ask. How could she uncover the secrets of the great wide world if she couldn’t uncover those in her own home?

Approaching the two old men, Perona hesitated. She knew Toto would be willing to talk (he had done so before) but she wasn’t sure what Crocus’s reaction would be.

She had to chance it.

“Excuse me,” she said, getting their attention. Crocus’s heavy frown made her nervous, so she focused on Toto. “Um – I wondered if I could ask you something.”

Toto smiled. “Of course! What is it?”

Perona shifted her feet a little, making soft impressions in the snow.

“I was wondering – about Moria,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Mama said we helped him a long time ago. Is that true?”

The expressions of the two old men became very grave. Crocus leaned forward, whispering. “You mustn’t talk about that creature too much,” he said. “We would forget him if we could!”

Toto sighed. “Indeed. But yes, it is true. Thirty years ago, the giant settled in that house up there, the one Gecko Hine built –”

“ _Thirty years_?” a scratchy voice barked. “Are you still spouting that rot?”

They all jumped and turned to see Raoul, the oldest man in the village at one hundred and three years of age, bristling in his wheelchair. His small, bony hands gripped the handles with which he moved so tightly they shook.

“That giant lived in that place for _one hundred years_!” he cried. “I was three years old! What good does your lying do?”

Toto and Crocus were stunned. The square had gone silent. Even the children had stopped playing to hear Raoul speak. Tiny and frail as he was, his rage commanded attention.

“One hundred years?” Perona whispered.

“That’s right!” said the old man. “These fools weren’t born yet – but my father and the rest of the village defended Moria from the army!”

“The _army?_ ”

Raoul’s son came out at that moment, putting a hand on his father’s shoulder.

“Dad, please—”

Raoul shook him off. “No!” he cried. “This has gone on too long!”

He fixed his sharp eyes on Perona. “A hundred years ago, the Cealcan army came to kick Moria out! I still remember the sight of ‘em - the clanking of their armour!”

Raoul’s withered lips smiled as the memories returned to him.

“They didn’t want a giant on their doorstep. But those who were old enough to have known Gecko Hine, and those who had grown up hearing stories about him, believed that Moria was made of the same stuff!”

The old man shook a fist. “Everyone rallied together and told them to go bother someone their own size!”

Perona was entranced. “Wow. So you - liked him?”

Raoul's unsteady hand faltered, settling slowly down onto the arm of his chair. His eyes were watering.

“We loved him,” he murmured. “All those years…”

Raoul’s son moved in and spoke gently to him. After a brief, whispered exchange, the elder allowed himself to be taken indoors.

The sobs of Mrs Hatter broke the silence. The pained and accusing eyes of the people around her were more than Perona could bear.

She ran home and did not leave it again until midnight drew close.

* * *

Perona donned the same clothes as the previous night. She packed a bag with a notebook and pencils. Catching sight of Bearsy lying by her pillow, Perona quickly stuffed him into her bag as well.

Before leaving, she took a deep breath and recited Moria’s spell.

_"'Shadows have not a thing to say,_

_No steps to walk but mine,_

_But under the light I stand today,_

_My freedom will be thine._

_Shadow, I command thee!’"_

In her mind’s eye, she pictured her shadow wrapping itself up under her bed covers, sleeping soundly.

_Sleep, my shadow, sleep._

When Perona turned and saw her shadow break away from her feet, take shape, and climb under the covers, her heart leapt.

As long as the image remained in her mind, she would succeed.

Steadying her nerves, Perona fetched a candle from downstairs, lit it, and crept out of the house.

* * *

There was no moon tonight; clouds heavy with snow clagged the sky. The giant’s lair, draped in shadow, loomed over Perona as she located the hole in the wall. The candlelight was invaluable.

Moria’s shadows surrounded her the moment her feet entered the snow on the other side. Their hollow eyes bored into her face and she pressed her back against the wall. She held onto the image of her shadow with trembling hands. It was like trying to grip water. No...

“Relax,” said one shadow, a rotund, bald man with a gravelly voice. “The master ordered us to escort you. Nothing else.”

Perona cursed the giant. There was no need for this many shadows! He was trying to frighten her into breaking the spell.

Squeezing the candlestick tightly in her left hand, she stepped forward.

* * *

Moria was munching noisily on a strange white fruit when Perona entered his chamber. Unlike the previous night, he was fully dressed. Clownish black boots covered his erstwhile bare feet and enormous yellow and orange chequered trousers stretched all the way up to his waist. His sheer bulk made his lower body appear almost pumpkin-like. A black coat covered a web-like fishnet shirt underneath, and black gloves with black satin gauntlets showed off their owner’s wealth, as did the cravat tied around his fat neck. His red hair was styled upright like a burning flame, curling wickedly at the ends.

Perona swallowed. No matter how strange he looked, this giant had teeth with which to bite, nails to tear, and magic to steal shadows away.

The snowdrop-shaped fruit was large enough to fit in the giant's hand, and soft swirls covered its surface.

Perona gasped. "The Snow Snow Fruit!"

Moria peered down at her, frowning.

"Ah," he muttered, his voice thick and slippery because his mouth was full of juice. "You're here. Pandora was it?"

"Perona!"

Moria rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You're here for Great-Great Grandpa's precious secrets aren't you?"

"Yes I am!"

Moria swallowed, gave her a dirty look, and took another bite of fruit.

"Hey!" Perona cried. "You said I could see them if I did that spell! The spell _you_ taught me!" she reminded.

The giant grimaced. "I never expected you to actually _pull it off_."

"What?" Perona couldn't believe what she was hearing. It took all her effort to keep her focus. "Well, I did it, and I'm here now - so show me! You promised!"

Moria showed off all his teeth in a nasty grin.

"What a demanding brat!" he said, spitting juice. "I show mercy and this is what I get!"

Perona stamped her foot. "You promised!"

The giant crossed his legs and shut his eyes. "I never actually _promised_ anything."

"Liar!" shouted Perona. “We made a _deal_.”

Moria sighed. He cracked open one eye and glanced down at the space where her shadow would have been.

"You won't leave until I keep my end of it, will you?"

Perona stood her ground. "If you kick me out, I'll come back!"

Moria popped the rest of the Snow Snow Fruit into his mouth and swallowed it, wiping the juice from his purple, lizard-like lips. Raising his arms, the giant heaved himself out of his chair and stood.

Perona was staggered. She barely reached his thigh. Standing at his full height, Moria was every inch the ogre she had imagined him to be. A twenty-foot tall monster, whose head challenged even the vaulted ceiling built to comfortably fit him.

“Watch your mouth,” hissed the giant. “I’m being generous to you, in spite of all your meddling questions!”

Perona felt cold. “What?”

“You have those old farts wrapped around your little finger don’t you? _Kishishi!_ Thirty years, a hundred years! What difference does it make to you how long I’ve lived here?”

Perona couldn’t speak. He had heard her in the square. He heard everything! How?

Moria cackled.

“ _Kishishishi!_ I told you – if you spoke out of turn, I’d know!” He noted her trembling hands with glee. “Close! _So_ close! Alas, not enough to break our deal.”

The giant took a step forward and Perona scrambled to get out of his way. The sound echoed heavily through the tower.

“Well, _Pandora_ ,” said Moria. “You wanted this box so badly - now come and open it! _Kishishi!"_

He walked out of the room laughing. Perona felt shaken to her core. Moria was always one step ahead, always looking for ways to crush her dream underfoot. Tears pricked her eyes. No. Her spell was still active. She would open that box. Her dream was one step closer.

As Moria’s massive shadow drifted further away, she rushed to catch up.


End file.
